Revised: 6/14/2019

AN: Hey there, thanks for checking out my story. There is a slight change to the canon universe in this fic. Assume the ages of all characters are four years more than cannon. This means entry to Hogwarts is fifteen, the trace is removed at twenty-one, Harry is eighteen at this point in the story, while Tonks and Fleur are twenty four and twenty-one respectively. Anything else that is not specifically stated, you may assume occurred the same as canon. That being said, enjoy the story!

The violent spinning sensation of the portkey finally came to a stop and Harry found himself sprawling on solid ground once again. The young wizard heaved in a desperate attempt to fill his lungs with air.

His last-ditch bid for freedom had actually worked?

Finally regaining his breath, Harry tilted his head up slowly, fearing his brief moment of reprieve was nothing but a trick by a sadistic dark lord merely to prolong his suffering. But where he expected to see the hate filled slits of the recently reincarnated Dark Lord, Harry found himself surrounded by an ecstatic crowd, exultant in their ignorance of the events that had occurred in the graveyard just moments ago.

Harry, with the imprint of a bombardment of deadly curses still seared on his retinas, staggered to his feet noting Cedric's lifeless body lying next to him with a pang of guilt.

There would be time to deal with that loss in time, but more important was the information on Harry was privy to. He'd have to fix that…

Harry searched the crowd for the brilliant blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, knowing the headmaster needed to be the first to receive his message. Harry could feel his consciousness slipping as he finally laid eyes on the wizened headmaster rushing towards him, the concern plastered on his face clashing with the euphoria of the surrounding crowd.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry managed through strained breaths, "He's back…Voldemort's returned…" The look of muted horror on Dumbledore's went unnoticed to Harry as he finally surrendered to his exhaustion and collapsed next to the still form… corpse, of Cedric Diggory.

By this point some of the spectators took noticed that all was not well on the pitch. The tumultuous cheers quieted to a murmur as more and more wizards noticed with mounting dread that the two champions returned by the Triwizard Cup weren't moving, one collapsed with exhaustion, and the other lifeless, with blank staring eyes. Ministry officials and Aurors rushed onto the field trying to contain the clamor of the crowd while Dumbledore merely stood over the two Hogwarts champions planning his next move to combat the untimely return of the dark lord.

oooOoOoOooo

"Minervra, please see to the delivery of Harry as well as Mr. Diggery to Poppy if you please." Dumbledore said urgently to his Deputy, giving priority to his two immobile students over dealing with the information imparted by the young Potter. The wise professor watched as the two immobile bodies of two of his students were levitated towards the castle, parting the surrounding crowd. Among the large huddle of witches and wizards was Alastor Moody.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, Albus failed to notice his old acquaintance's uncharacteristic smirk as he slipped away and silently made his way back to the castle. Albus spared Amos Diggory a sympathetic glance as the man raced after the dead body of his son before steeling himself for what was obviously going to be one of the most trying nights of his life.

Before the powerful wizard could even begin to think about combating the newly revived Voldemort, he would have to convince the ministry of his return, and considering Fudge would argue that owls were flightless birds if only to oppose Dumbledore, he highly doubted the stubborn minister would support his claim based on the word of a wizard barely into adulthood, even if he was "the boy who lived."

He strode over to the blustering Minister, steeling himself in preparation for the inevitable argument that would most likely ensue.

oooOoOoOooo

The crisp white curtains of the Hospital Wing matched the bedding of the two orderly rows of beds along both sides of the room while sunlight streamed through the windows completing the particularly sterile feel of the room.

The only movement among a collection of still patients was the resident Medi-Witch, Madam Pomfrey bustling through her cabinets searching for the appropriate dosages to treat her three most recent patients. The distinct deep burgundy of the flasks clinking between the matron's dexterous fingers, could be identified as blood replenishers to one familiar with common medical brews.

Or in the case of Harry himself, he'd spent enough time horizontal in the Hospital wing to have memorized the labels subconciously.

True to its legacy, the Triwizard Tournament had hospitalized 3 of its combatants and taken one life. The bed furthest from the door was claimed by Harry, unruly black mess of hair plastered in a disarray on his forehead, while to his left lay Fleur Delacour, her radiance present even while slumbering peacefully. The third bed was occupied by the final living champion, Victor Krum, most likely dosed heavily with Dreamless sleep.

Those under its influence were always so unnaturally still… Gone was the scowl worn since arriving in early fall of the previous year, hard features relaxed for once into a visage displaying an artificial serenity.

Harry's brilliant green eyes began to open in response to the growing glare of the sun. With a start he sat up, looking around noticing a blurry form sitting next to his bed. He reached for his glasses where he assumed they would be on the bedside table, and succeeding in his search, took in the reassuring face of the Headmaster smiling back at him as the teen tried to regain his bearings.

"Relax Harry, you are no longer in any danger. At least for the moment you are safe back in the castle." Came the placating voice of the headmaster.

"Professor! The Cup—it was a portkey- Voldemort's back. There was a ritual in the graveyard an—"

"Harry… it is alright, perhaps we should slow down and start from the beginning." Albus cut in, halting the events spewing from Harry's mouth in a jumble. Harry took a moment to catch his breath as flashes of memory raced through his head.

Recanting his tale once again, he relayed the night of the 3rd task to his headmaster starting with his discovery of Fleur, Cedric and Krum in the maze. Harry noted how he interrupted Fleur being held under the cruciatus by an imperioed Krum but managed to nail the Durmstrang champion with a body bind, the familiar green glow fading from Krum's wand tip as he hit the ground.

Dumbledore sat in contemplation, but with a nod of his head indicated to continue. Harry narrated how after sending emergency sparks to indicate the locations of the downed champions, he continued with Cedric to the cup only to transported to a graveyard. He recalled the rasping voice that commanded the death of his fellow champion. "Kill the spare." Such a brief command attested to how insignificant Cedric was to the dark lord's machinations. To Tom Riddle, Cedric was nothing, insignificant, the spare. Once again stirring from his thoughts, Harry resumed the story of being strapped to a gravestone like some sort of grotesque crucifixion. He paused.

"It's like he was barely human anymore," reflected Harry, remembering the waxy grey skin covering the bald snake-like skull with nothing more than slits for nostrils. But beyond all else, he recalled the cold, calculating scarlet irises of the man who once waged the most gruesome magical civil war since Grindewald's time.

"Voldemort pressed Wormtail's mark, thanking him for serving him well, while simultaneously calling his remaining death eaters to the clearing" Harry continued. "I don't remember all of their names but there had to be at least fifteen of them, all in black cloaks and white masks. He turned back to me after addressing his followers and I could feel how excited he was," Harry brushed his scar unconsciously at the phantom pain. "He… he made me bow to him like some sort of twisted puppet. I… He was going to kill me Professor, Even after returning my wand to me I've never felt so helpless in my life."

Dumbledore nodded in sympathy. "Despite the many cruel things Lord Voldemort has done in his lifetime he was a brilliant and powerful wizard Harry, never forget that."

As he continued to tell his tale, Harry was immersed in the experience of facing the terrible power commanded by the Dark Lord.

The sheer oppression and dominance of the dark lord's magic left a bitter taste in his mouth. A respectively powerful shield held for mere seconds under the barrage of curses launched from the Dark Lord's wand.

Harry abandoned his shield to dive behind a headstone for cover, only for it to be transfigured into a stone serpent, animated into striking the location he had occupied moments earlier. Diving behind another headstone, holding in a wince from the various lacerations that were the consequence of the sloppy dodge, Harry was once again pinned by a string of curses cast at almost inhuman speeds from Voldemort's ivory-colored wand.

A dark grey curse pulsing with static energy blasted the headstone to pieces which peppered him in shrapnel opening more tears in his right shoulder and upper arm. The Dark Lord strolled towards the downed student, casually pursuing him as if this wasn't a matter of life and death.

Granted, to Riddle it really wasn't; he hasn't used any magic more powerful that something Harry could learn in school. This was simply a show of the vast gap in skill.

The spindly figure of the newly reincarnated wizard scoffed as if to say 'Is that all?' before gesturing casually with his off hand, wandlessly banishing the fallen wizard into the tomb he was originally tied to. A brief gesture of the Dark Lord's wand was all it took for the Macabre grim reaper to be brought to life once more, the personified statue once again restraining Harry in a bastardized recreation of the crucifix.

Perhaps he too would be reincarnated. Harry smiled grimly at the thought.

"Look at you! Nothing but a child compared to the might of Lord Voldemort!" came the sibilant whisper of Riddle as he strolled up to the restrained form of harry once again held against a massive tombstone. The abused triwizard champion stared defiantly into the dark lord's eyes, refusing to give Riddle the satisfaction of a response. With a harsh slash in an L-shaped motion of his wand Voldemort uttered his spell.

"Crucio." The word was spoken quietly, contrasting jarringly with the boy's resulting screams echoing into the blackness of the night, as well as the belligerent heckling from the depraved men and women surrounding the spectacle. Lifting the curse the dark lord once again released the stone guardian holding him flush with the stone and addressed the young wizard.

"Stand up boy! I'll give you the honor of dying on your feet! After all, Voldemort is a merciful lord." Harry's only response to the sycophantic laughter of the surrounding crowd was to slowly regain his footing, limbs quivering from the aftershock of the grievous damage dealt to his body from the cruciatus curse.

Voldemort's scornful sneer and silence was indicative of what came next—

"Avada Kedavra."

Harry raised his wand, letting his magic flow as he uttered the first spell that came to mind.

"If it wasn't for my parents… he would have killed me then and there sir," Harry finished demurely.

"Your parents, what do you mean Harry?" Dumbledore questioned gently.

Harry then finished with the description of how Voldemort and his wand connected after the boy attempted to disarm him and the resulting appearance of his parents. Dumbledore informed him of the instance Priori Incantatem that can occur when wands with cores of the same magical creature meet and how Harry's Parents would have been some of the most recent people to fall to the Dark Lord's wand.

"Professor…" Harry began, "I have to be better… I know you believe that I should be enjoying my childhood, professor, but I think that ship has pretty much sailed sir. You expect me to trust your staff to be there to protect me from Voldemort but… you weren't there that night!" he finished with resolve.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Harry that the headmaster had over a century of experience and had likely been in many situations more dangerous than his own experience, but still felt justified making his point. "I have to get stronger so that the next time he comes to attack those I care about I can protect them! I never want to feel as helpless as I did that night ever again. Expelliarmus won't be the first spell on my mind the next time he comes after me" Harry finished, the last thought more to himself.

Dumbledore gazed back at him barely hiding a wince at the entirely true accusation before replying. "Harry, I believe I owe you an apology. It seems all my decisions concerning yourself end up being mistakes, and I will endeavor to be more diligent in my duty," Harry's protest died on his lips as the Wise headmaster continued—"however, there is no harm in bettering oneself in order to protect one's loved ones. Though I will warn you to not lose sight of your reasons for seeking power, else you might be consumed by hatred. I can think of another boy who once sought power for his own protection." He finished with a knowing stare.

"I understand sir." Came Harry's reply, not entirely convinced at the Headmaster's ability to protect him but willing to let the matter drop for the moment. Regardless of the headmaster's belief in his own ability to keep Harry safe from harm, the boy refused to passively accept his fate.

Today would be the last day he settled for mediocrity.

Harry would thrive in the face of Adversity

"Very well, Harry, I believe we both have much to do in the coming months, but much of that can wait until you've fully recovered" Dumbledore ended cheerily as he rose to leave the Hospital Wing. "Poppy will have my head if I bother her patients for longer than strictly necessary, and I believe I still have an irate Minister to deal with, until next time Mr. Potter." Harry noted the shift from friend to headmaster as he bid Dumbledore farewell, turning his thoughts back to his newfound conviction, already planning to improve his overall combat ability in preparation for the impending conflict.

"Hmm… I might take a page out of Hermione's book and hit the Library tomorrow," he mused quietly.

"You know 'zey say talking to one's self is the first sign of insanity," replied a lilting feminine voice from beside him.

Craning his head to the side without tugging at his bandages took some effort, but he eventually managed. Harry paused, taking in Fleur's almost ethereal appearance. She lay propped up on one elbow, her silvery-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder with a small smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. Despite being nearly unaffected by all but the strongest of her veela aura, her natural beauty gave Harry pause before he answered with a grin.

"I am talking to you, aren't I?" The French witch merely tilted her head, acknowledging his point, but she seemed distracted by something. Harry simply raised an eyebrow at her lack of focus, inferring the question the French witch really wanted to ask him. "Just say it." Harry probed lightly, "I promise not to be upset."

Her smile fell a bit as she relented, asking quietly, "Is what you said before really true…'ze Dark Lord? 'e is back?" Harry noted how her voice didn't waver as she spoke of the infamous wizard. "I can't really imagine what that must have been like… what you said happened in the graveyard." She shuddered in sympathy.

Not really bothered by the fact that she had overheard his conversation with Dumbledore, Harry confirmed his experience in the maze. As far as he was concerned, the sooner the public was exposed to the truth the better. At least if they were informed then they could respond in a completely rational manner.

Right….

"If your story is true, Harry, 'zen it seems I find myself even further in your debt 'zan before," she said gently as her face lit up with her first genuine smile since she woke up. "I 'ave 'eard rumors of your so called 'saving people 'zing' on occasion but I had no idea it had 'zis much truth to it." The wry grin that stole across her features was a refreshing change from her normally stoic attitude.

Her tone turned serious once more, "'Zank you, 'Arry, I don't know 'ow I can even 'zank you enough, boz' my sister and I owe you our lives."

"Really, it's no problem," he replied evenly, "but I'd like it if you would consider me a friend, a…at least until you have to leave with the rest of your school." he finished with a slight smile.

"Oui," came Fleur's quiet reply as she lay back, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

Harry sat in his cot for a couple seconds before speaking again.

"I feel like I should have walked away after saying that, but I'm still exhausted and bed ridden so that's not really an option huh?" They glanced at each other from their prone positions before breaking into a fit of childish giggles. He could feel the tension of the past several months slowly leaving his body as he listened to the musical sound of Fleur's laughter. Perhaps they were really on to something with encouraging international relations…